Gimme Three Steps
by Nokomiss
Summary: Draco Malfoy finds himself looking down the wrong end of a very Muggle weapon during an night out. A very recognizable situation for anyone who's heard the song "Gimme Three Steps" by Lynard Skynard.


Gimme Three Steps  
  
Disclaimer: This fic is based on the song,"Gimme Three Steps,"by Lynard Skynard. Recognizable characters do not belong to me, I'm just playing with them.  
  
AN: This fic is a response to a challenge at FA, to put a HP character into the plot line of a song. I did gratuitously use lyrics as dialogue in this, as well as a quote from another Lynard Skynard song. On with the show...  
***  
  
Draco Malfoy surveyed the interior of the club dubiously. It wasn't the most refined place he had ever been in, that was for sure. Not even the rattiest wizard pubs back in Britain were this despondent. The only reason he was here was to escape from his father and the crazy wizard that they were here conducting business with. They had been in this small town for two days already, and Draco had been near stir-crazy when the crazy wizard they were staying with had told him that there was a club in town that young folks seemed to enjoy, if he wanted to get away for a little while.  
  
The name of the establishment was The Jug, which probably should have been the first clue that this wasn't exactly the pinnacle of high entertainment. In fact, The Jug was clinging desperately to the very last, bottom-of-the- barrel shreds of the concept of entertainment. The building was made of dusty wood, just off the main drag of an extremely small town in the middle of Texas. There was a jukebox in one corner that was just as dusty as the land outside, and the moderately crowded wooden dance floor was scuffed, and in dire need of a polish. The only redeeming factor that the place had was the well-stocked bar.  
  
But, he thought to himself, this was the best that could really be expected of such a remote location. After all, the current wizard population around here was about three. That included both Draco and his father, who were just visiting the place. The wizard they were here to do business with was the single best creator of magical booby traps in the world. The Dark Lord had heard his reputation, and had sent one of his more intelligent followers to speak to the man to try and get him to join up with the cause.  
  
They had made good progress, and tonight was likely to be the last spent out here in the middle of nowhere, talking a madman into joining forces with the Dark Lord. Needless to say, this was not what Draco had imagined when he had come along on this 'business trip.'  
  
It was just his luck that his father had finally decided that he was 'mature' enough to come along with him on Death Eater business. Ever since the Dark Lord's return three years ago, Draco had begged to be allowed to come along on one of his father's 'business trips.' Most of them involved either lots of gratuitous violence, or exotic locales with exotic locals. Conveniently, he had achieved maturity just in time for a trip to the middle of freakin' nowhere.  
  
Why did the expert in setting magical booby traps have to live in Texas? There were a million of more convenient places in the world, after all. And even if the guy did just have to live in Texas, why couldn't he have chosen a town with decent entertainment?  
  
Draco was still standing just inside the doorway, silently bemoaning fate, when his eyes sought out some decent entertainment sitting at a table in the corner.  
  
She was perfect, he thought, looking over the pretty brunette. An absolute perfect specimen of female. Gorgeous, beautiful, sexy, lovely, whatever adjective floats your boat described her. She was an absolute goddess. His eyes trailed along the low neck of her skimpy top, and he decided that he needed to talk to her. He swaggered over to her table, and smiled his sexiest smile.  
  
"What's your name, little girl?" he said, quoting a song that had been playing on the jukebox when he first entered The Jug.  
  
"Linda Lu," replied the goddess.  
  
"Would you care to dance?" he inquired, making a graceful, gallant motion with his arm. Yeah, he was good. The goddess couldn't possibly turn down him.  
  
And, of course, she didn't turn him down. She accepted his offer, and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. The hokey classic rock had been replaced by some contemporary pop song, though all Draco cared about was the way that Linda Lu was pressing herself up against him.  
  
Just as the mating dance had reached the point of being indecent in public, Linda Lu froze, and pulled away from him, looking at the door nervously.  
  
Draco turned, and saw a man walk in the door, and look around the small club, obviously trying to find someone. He spoke briefly to a woman sitting at a table near the door, then the woman pointed towards the dance floor. The man looked in that direction, and then he spotted the still couple on the dance floor.  
  
His angry gaze rested on Linda Lu. He pulled a strange metal contraption from the waistband of him jeans. Draco knew that the metal thing was a sort of Muggle weapon called a gun, that had been described as sort of like a metal wand in the Daily Prophet way back during third year, after Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban. The idea of Muggles having weapons akin to wands had fascinated Draco, and he had snuck out a book on the subject of guns from the library at Hogwarts. The concept had been terrifying.  
  
He knew all about Avada Kedavra, and all the other Unforgivables, as well as a number of other rather gruesome, possibly lethal spells and potions for as long as he could remember. But knowing that Muggles had a weapon that didn't just kill, but was capable of inflicting painful wounds on the victims, had given him a whole new respect for his father.  
  
His father attacked Muggles, without knowing if they were armed with these guns or not! He took his life in his hands every single time he went out on a Death Eater's raid! Draco was proud that he was following in his father's footsteps.  
  
Draco suddenly became aware of the fact that Linda Lu was cowering behind him, and that the man with the gun had approached him, and was now standing directly in front of him.  
  
"Hey there fellow, with the hair colored yellow," said the man derisively, using the hand not holding the gun to flick at the strand of Draco's blond hair that had come loose while he had been dancing. Draco made a motion to smack the man's hand away, but remembered the gun just in time.  
  
"Watcha tryin' to prove?" said the man, looking Draco up and down. Draco was confused, and then looked back at Linda Lu. She was looking at the man with the gun with something between fear and lust in her eyes.  
  
"'Cause that's my woman there, and I'm a man who cares," continued the man. Draco could only stare blankly at Linda Lu, who had moved to his side, where he could watch both her and the man with the gun. He wondered how such a goddess had managed to end up with this man. He wasn't really worried about the man with the gun yet, because he was still shocked. However, the man's next words cut through his shock.  
  
"And this might be all for you."  
  
Fear hit Draco as the man raised the gun, pointing it towards the blond wizard. He began to shake like a leaf on a tree, wondering what he could say to make this man not want to kill him anymore. A few inarticulate sounds escaped his throat, but still the gun stayed leveled in his direction. The man was scary looking, Draco realized. He was a good three inches taller, and was well muscled, and was pointing a deadly weapon at him. All over a girl!  
  
True, she was a gorgeous girl. But not anything worth getting shot dead over. In fact, due to his highly developed survival skills, he had long since decided that no girl, person, family member, belonging, or animal was worth dying over. He thought briefly about pleading his case to the Muggle, claiming that he was too young to die, or that he had a kid, or one of the other weak pity claims that his father had told him, laughing, that Muggles had said to him while trying to save their lives.  
  
Finally, though, after an eternity of staring down the wrong end of a gun, words sprang unbidden from his lips. "Wait a minute, mister!"  
  
Saying that epithet of respect to a filthy, hick Muggle felt like blasphemy, but Draco was desperate.  
  
"I didn't even kiss her!" True, thought Draco. All he'd done was dance with her. So what if said dancing had been much more intimate than most kisses?  
  
"I don't want no trouble with you," continued Draco, trying to edge away without looking like he was trying to edge away. An idea suddenly occurred to him, and he decided to go for it, even though it involved flushing his dignity down the toilet. After all, dignity could be regained a hell of a lot easier than life. Just ask the Dark Lord.  
  
"I know you don't owe me, but I wish you'd let me ask one favor of you," said Draco, mentally crossing his fingers and praying to every single deity that came to mind, regardless of whether he believed in them or not.  
  
The man with the gun nodded slightly, a smirk on his face that Draco wanted very much to punch right off. However, he was not in the position to do any smirk policing at the moment, no matter how silly he thought the expression looked on everyone but him. After all, he had perfected the smirk, as well as the sneer and derisive laughter, though none of which were skills that were helping him in any way at the moment.  
  
"Won't you give me three steps, mister?" That word again. Oh well, no helping it. Life before pride.  
  
"Gimme three steps towards the door, and you'll never see me no more," continued Draco, hoping that the man would accept this request. Otherwise, it would be his last one.  
  
The man seemed to be thinking about this rather odd request. Meanwhile, the crowd that had surrounded the dispute began to clear away. Draco wasn't sure whether they were worried about getting caught by a stray bullet, or if they thought that the fray had come to an end.  
  
"It's a shame. That boy ain't gonna look so pretty after meeting that forty- four." he overheard one of the women saying just then. Oh. Guess they were worried about stray bullets, after all.  
  
Draco stared down the forty-four, as the woman had called the shiny piece of metallic death. It wasn't any fun, looking at the small black hole that at any moment might end the his existence, but Draco didn't really have any better options at the moment. The man was too close for him to be able to make a break for it.  
  
He jumped as a loud breaking sound echoed through the small club. The bottom of his pant leg felt curiously wet. He tore his gaze away from the gun, and saw Linda Lu throwing a second glass of water down on the dance floor, water splattering everywhere. She started to scream at the man with the gun, obviously angry at him.  
  
"I can't believe you came to check up on me!" yelled Linda Lu.  
  
The man turned to her, and yelled back, "Apparently I had good cause to!"  
  
Draco looked back and forth between the feuding couple, who were yelling insults at each other furiously, then realized that the man with the gun's attention was completely on Linda Lu now, and he was no longer pointing the gun at Draco. Instead, he was making angry arm motions, and the gun was being flung in every which direction in a decidedly not-safe manner.  
  
Draco decided that it was high time for him to get out of The Jug, and broke for the door.  
  
He could be heard screaming from a mile away as he headed out of the door.  
A short time later-  
  
Lucius Malfoy looked up from the terms of agreement for meeting with the Dark Lord that he had been reading aloud as he heard the door slam.  
  
"I guess your boy's back already," said the expert in magical booby traps, who had just agreed to speak to the Dark Lord, and was frankly quite grateful for an interruption from the terms of agreement. He had just heard Rule Number 78: no gum chewing allowed in the presence of the Dark Lord. If he had known that Dark Lords were so rule-conscious, he wouldn't have agreed to meet with him. Oh well, these screwball British wizards would be leaving soon, and then he could conveniently forget about his meeting with the Dark Lord.  
  
The younger Malfoy entered the kitchen just then, looking decidedly flushed. Well, maybe a little more than flushed. His hair, normally greased back in such a way to make the seediest used car salesman envious, was sticking out from his head in decidedly unattractive clumps. His pale face was covered in extremely unsightly red splotches. He was also panting like he had just run a marathon. All in all, he looked horrible.  
  
Lucius looked furious.  
  
"What happened to you?" he demanded. The boy looked unsure of what he wanted to say. Finally, he spoke in what the crazy expert in magical booby traps thought was a rather earnest manner.  
  
"Muggles are crazy."  
  
****  
  
fin.  
  
*** 


End file.
